


The System

by wickersnap



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Patrons, Platonic Relationships, deities/gods, ideas dump, not meant to be DeepTM, october prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickersnap/pseuds/wickersnap
Summary: They sit at the top of the tallest building in the city, their legs dangling over the edge. Together they run the modern scene, and few dare to cross them.There is a System, and he has seen more of the rise and fall than any.





	The System

**Author's Note:**

> It doesn't contain everyone, partly to keep it from getting too long and partly because I didn't have the brain capacity after the past few days. It's a bit of an idea dump and an appreciation for respect and friendship.
> 
> https://silverxsakura.tumblr.com/post/178789334468/yogtober-day-5-slightly-late-deitiespatrons

“What do you miss most from when you were human?” asks Tom Clark. Deceit has never known mortality.

“My family,” Ben tells him. “They do not know I watch over them.”

They sit at the top of the tallest building in the city, their legs dangling over the edge, feeling the wind steal their conversation from under their noses. Below them are a million people, caring not for the lives around them. Maybe today a smile will be shared in the doorway of a shop, or two strangers will meet under Fate’s blessing, but Goodwill barely recognises the streets from whence he came. He has come to see generations of his line pass beneath them. Tom does not understand how he feels. He has never discriminated between families or nations—he’s watched them all crumble from between his fingers. But he has never revelled in it. Somehow, he is often confused with Love. This is not something he readily understands. She is all things caring and kind, and he is not. When love grows sick he helps shoulder the burden, and Radders has always thanked him for it. Because both know there is never shame in needing help, and humanity’s venom continues to poison the water, their system has never yet failed them.

There’s a bar down the way where Chaos and Conflict reside, despondently emptying bottle after glass. Each have gone by many names, but are not so proud to bear them now. 

In his weeping Sjin mourns the lost appetite for innocence and childish joy, and despairs the fresh cycle of pain and suffering. He burns unchecked without a role. The abuse of his trade is one he despises especially, even without bias. There is only so much he can do to lessen each blow; there are only so many volunteers, donations and selfless agencies, and only so much one can do against corruption. For now he dredges up the past, ferreting for secrets, placing an enabling hand on the shoulders of those needing to speak.

Sips, though, has long exhausted his tears. He reserves all his blessings for his victims only. When summoned he longs for dissolution, and raises his shield against every salvo. He has no respect for a world so callous. He curses the days each ignorant, selfish abuse of power comes to pass, and begs for the voice of the many to be heard. He grants safe passage to the journalists, to the aid workers and the refugees. He hopes humanity will live to serve what little faith he has left in them.

Often, they are joined by one known as Harry, whose moods vacillate wildly on the flip of a coin. Sometimes they wonder how much more taxing becoming the bearer of both good and bad would be.  _ Fortune favours the brave, _ it’s said, but Fortune favours no one, and least of all himself. He is everywhere, but you’ll never see him—leaning against the neighbourhood fence, meandering through your workplace, or sitting crouched atop a lamppost in the midst of rush hour. He watches, and he sees.

Harry has many friends, and they spread themselves thin over their duties. Kimberley Richards fronts the pioneers, throwing herself deep into the unknown. She thrives in success and failure equally, and is friends with many and known to all. Discovery waits for no man, however, and can never dally when called. With a smile and a bounce in her step, she draws all towards her charm. She’s never short of followers, and blossoms through the decades with each new step.

On his pedestal, Prosperity awaits, dressed head-to-toe in red, black and gold. William Strife is the entrepreneur's man, though his temperament finds him unpredictable. He tries to look down on his ‘charge’ Alex Parvis, but really could not fool a fool blindfold. Intrepidation is one of Kim’s companions. His enthusiasm is virtually virulent. Together they run the modern scene, and few dare to cross them, only half from selfish fears. Strife has no need for a crown of laurels, not when his rolled-up sleeves can earn him his reputation. Parvis revels in fame and attention, and throws caution to the wind to achieve any end. At their hand, men who bore for them no respect have been ruined. At their hand, the women who saw them for what they are have happily spun their own successes. Nobody is doomed to any fate, yet many do not see reason.

There are others Strife views as competition, despite his intention remaining a mystery. Courage, Bravery and Curiosity are a clique, and, while astonishingly different, are indeterminable to outsiders; each are known by name and not by purpose—a crafty and improper tactic. The three are inseparable despite their differences, and may be intimated by letters H, A and T. As foolish as they are adventurous, they rarely encounter a dull moment, and neither do those who encounter them. They may be found in the unordinary, and simultaneously the extraordinary: a word seemingly made for no other purpose.

Some ways away, Strippin stands in hi-vi and hard hat in the midst of London Bridge station. No one pays him any notice, barely even a thought as they weave around him and each other. Every person is intent on their own journeys, their own purposes. The life around him is a cacophony of meetings and partings and happenings and nothings. Over the noise of the terminal, he laughs and jokes with Benji up on the leftover scaffolding; the Traveller and Progress are for now content to sit by and watch the world turn. Every stall in ideas, hiccup in journey means another cancelled train, another delayed flight. But not today. Today they celebrate the success of another completed node in the network. Benji may be the patron of any industry, but this is where one can most often find him: the centre of the rush and the timetabled disarray. He wouldn’t leave for the world.

The truth of it all, however damning, means that wherever life is thriving, it must also come to term. Mousie is the Ruination of all things, because this is what must come to pass. Temples held through worship and care must erode and crumble. Castles upon empires upon eras: all must be washed aside for Growth, and this is her ultimatum. Ruin herself, she is bright and lovely, misleadingly seductive in her welcoming pleasantry. She leads all things to their terminus with a soft touch and kind instruction, and feels the drain take hold of her spirit. The ones before turned spiteful and cold; she knows of this, and is terrified, watching the fragile lives of the creatures she loves fold up and sigh relief in her cupped hands. Mousie blames herself for their losses, and the bitterness comes creeping up like bile, held back only by determination. 

There is a hand on her shoulder that speaks of Righteousness and his certainty. He is certain, for it is fact, that she has one of the hardest jobs of all. To claim the existence of all things, even before their times, she carries a growing burden she cannot share. Zylus is there, just one step behind, ready to catch her elbow when she stumbles beneath it.  _ You cannot be blamed for doing what is necessary,  _ he tells her, over and over. He will continue to do so for as long as he must, because she does not understand her own worth, and it hurts him to see it. His work extends to bolster the reparations of Chaos and Conflict, the endeavours of Order and Reason and System, though he cannot do much to imprint on the rest. Zylus has a vision of justice that he will work himself to the ground to realise. Quietly, Mousie refuses to allow him to do so.

Regardless of how they may contradict each other, Reason and Empathy walk hand in hand. They balance each other, creating a harmony that understanding flourishes in. Bringing peace and contentment is a happy side effect for Fiona, especially when Zoey rejoices in it so. If it were left to her, all life would be free of hardship, and all people would be equal and unanimously lacking aggression. Fiona thinks maybe the universe benefits in small inconsistencies, small controversies, but she has seen the work of men who think they are on par with whichever deities they believe in, and she despairs for those left in its wake.

Ultimately, a universe is under the rules of its System.

In some odd turn of Fate, his equal, a true fidus Achates of System, finds himself the bringer of Merriment. Nobody has questioned his existence: he  _ is,  _ and he remains _. _ This has always been the way of things (not that anyone with sense would complain). Simon, a jolly figurehead personality, has hold on nearly every single existence there is. Like others, he is underappreciated by the everyday crowd, but found even in the smallest action in the smallest corner of the world.

Knowledge is crucial to keeping the world growing. He works best with Chaos, Discovery, Order and System, yet only on occasion he steps away from his comfort zone if for the betterment of himself and his friends. He spends days sifting through research data, then finds a new path and throws himself in blind. He sits around in labs, then watches crash tests of startups from the rafters. He spends some of his winter months in Antarctica, fiddling with the unused instruments and passing his time with arts. There are many ways to learn, he says, and takes failure with both heavy heart and uproarious guffaw. 

Order herself dictates balance—as dedicated to her trade as she is to her complement. She can play the long game, drawing out each move to benefit the result. Hannah is System’s second-in-command, and has sworn to create in order to protect. She curses those who oppress, and the laws that enable them. The universe continues around specific order, though after centuries humanity has not fully understood it. Planets turn around their stars and it is beautiful, like the indeterminable tearing apart of space and time in a black hole. She says the word, and it is reliable.

Over the millennia, they have had many different names. They have seen the rise of others, of Ra, of Zeus, but they have watched, and they have known. There is a System, and he has seen more of the rise and fall than any. 

Xephos sees his friends and commends them. He would not change anything for the universe.


End file.
